


Moving On

by igiveup101



Category: Enlisted (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, but also humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 15:00:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4353425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igiveup101/pseuds/igiveup101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derrick isn't sure he wants to get over Erin. His brothers help him anyway</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving On

The day after Command Sargent Major's ball, Erin left. The previous night, at the beach, Derrick had told his brothers he'd surprise her by meeting her at the airport. As soon as he'd gotten back to the base and got in bed, he'd realized that it was a tremendously awful idea. But not going was also a terrible idea, right?

 

Derrick had ended up spending the entire night staring at the bottom of Randy's bunk, running through it in his head repeatedly. Several hours later, when it was actually the time he'd have to get going if he wanted to get there in time, he made a decision. He wasn't going to go. A second later, he made another decision. He _was_ going to go. No, he wasn't. Yes, he was. No. Yes.

 

If he didn't go, he'd be missing his last chance to see Erin in God knows how long. If he did- well, if he did go, he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't do something to make a damned fool out of himself, and somehow he'd gotten Erin to like him this long and why give himself another chance to fuck that up? At least that way, she'd go with a fond memory of him. But he also really, really wanted to go.

 

The same argument that had been playing in his head all night repeated itself again. He couldn't convince himself to go, but he also couldn't convince himself not to. Pete finally made the choice by popping in a few minutes later. “Didn't you say you'd meet Erin at the airport? Isn't it about time you, you know, do that?”

 

Derrick stared at him, opening and closing his mouth before clearing his throat. “Uh, huh, yeah, about that. I don't think I'm going to actually do that.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he winced and kicked himself mentally. He'd never decided that.

 

Pete rolled his eyes and pulled his brother out of bed himself. “Just get going before Cody changes his mind about giving you the day off.”

 

“But-” Derrick stopped, trying to force himself to work through it quickly because _several hours should be enough to make a decision, damn it_. “No. You're right. Yeah. Thanks.”

 

He headed out and got to the car as quickly as he could before he could change his mind again. This was a good thing. He was choosing to do this. But choosing meant he could also _not_ do it, and that things could go wrong, and he'd have no one to blame but himself if they did, and _wow_ he needed to stop thinking as quickly as possible.

 

The previous night, Pete had offered to go with him. Derrick had turned him down at the time because he thought it would ruin the mood. Now, he was a lot less sure. After what seemed like an eternity of doubt and dread and preemptive regret, he finally reached the airport...

 

Half an hour too late.

 

When he got back to the base, he was greeted by Randy, cake in hand and a giant, hopeful grin on his face. “Derrick! I made you a cake. It's an I'm-sorry-your-girlfriend-left-you cake!”

 

“Right, because cake and people are literally exactly the same- and by the way, she didn't leave me, okay? She just had to move for her son, so no, she didn't- listen, I'm going to the room, so just leave me alone, okay? Go talk to squirrels or whatever it is you do in your free time.” Derrick shoved past him. He felt guilty, but it wasn't his fault that Randy had decided to bake the stupid cake, and being nice wasn't what he did anyway. He was the middle brother; he was the rough spots.

 

It seemed to take an infinite amount of time to reach his room, an infinite amount of time filled with people he had to walk past to get there who insisted on nodding or saying hey, and he really didn't feel like dealing with _people_.

 

As soon as he got inside the room, he shut the door, leaning against it for a second just to breathe. A knot had been stuck in throat since he'd gotten back the previous night, and it had only gotten considerably worse since that morning. He put the audio tape of _Angela's Ashes_ back into the cassette player, rolled himself up in blankets, and officially shut off from the rest of the world. Pete and Randy both stopped in, but Derrick ignored them and, fortunately, they left.

 

Derrick had expected to fall asleep, but it wasn't happening. He hadn't slept since 6:30 of the previous morning, over 24 hours ago, and he was wrapped up in blankets in bed, but still nothing. He wasn't even listening to the audio book- which wasn't much of a loss, because he'd already heard it a million times and read it at least twice that. Despite the fact that everything with Erin was already over, he couldn't stop going over it in his head.

 

The whole thing was his fault, really. He took her number. He asked her out. Even when he found out she had a kid, he took her out. He brought her ex-husband back. He knew how much Sam loved his dad, and how much Erin loved Sam. He knew how much army soldiers moved around. Still, he persisted. He let himself get attached. He'd even taken her to the ball. Then he'd stupidly gone to the airport, so this whole thing was on him. It was completely avoidable, but he'd actually actively chosen not to avoid it, because he was a damn fool.

 

He knew all that trash about “better to have loved and lost” but frankly he was kind of wishing he'd never done anything, ever, at all. He'd been perfectly happy before Erin- okay, not _happy_ , per say, but almost totally completely mostly fine. Except that he didn't have Erin, or her hair, or her beautiful eyes or her smile or laugh or the way that she managed to find a way to like Derrick even when he was being a dick, but now he was stuck right back in that same boat and kind of wanted to bury himself alive.

 

He decided he was never going to have life-changing revelations or sudden bursts of courage ever again.

 

–

 

Randy slept in Pete's trailer that night. It'd been Pete's idea, to give Derrick some space, but he regretted it quickly. For one thing, the trailer did not have nearly enough room for two people to sleep. Randy took the couch, which made it easier, but it also took forever for him to stop asking questions, and then he fell asleep mid-sentence.

 

The next morning, Pete was woken by the most uncomfortable hug of his life. He left the trailer as quickly as possible.

 

Derrick wasn't at formation at 6:00, but he never was, so that wasn't really anything new. It wasn't until 3 and a half hours later, when neither Pete nor Randy had seen him around yet that they bothered to check the room- where he was wrapped up in his blankets just like the last time they'd seen him, looking like he hadn't moved since then.

 

Randy's first instinct was to be Randy, so naturally, Pete got him out of the way. “Come on, Derrick. Sure, it sucks that Erin left, but you will have to get out of bed eventually.” He thought he heard a muffled response from under the blankets, so he moved them enough that he could see his brother's face- which, quite frankly, kind of looked like shit. “Come again?”

 

“That's what you think.” Derrick repeated stubbornly, pulling the blankets back up over his head.

 

Pete sighed. “You'll have to eat sometime.” He heard a grunt and the blankets moved vaguely as if Derrick was shaking his head. “Would a trip to the bar get you up? I can already hear the beer calling to us.” There was no response for a few seconds, as if Derrick was considering it, but then he rolled off of the bed and then beneath it, still wrapped up in his blankets.

 

“It's not good to internalize this stuff. You know that the support group leader says it helps to talk about things.” Silence. “Fine. I'll leave you alone, for today, but there's only so much time I'm willing to spend with Randy at one time, and a whole night is pushing the line, so you'd better be better by tomorrow, okay?” When there was still no response, Pete patted the bed and stood, leaving the room slowly. He looked back again at the huddled white mass under the bed before he left.

 

Derrick was in one of his moods again. It happened every once in a while, but he was usually willing to at least put up with people. Pete decided to cut him some slack this time. He remembered how much it had sucked when- actually, no, no one had ever broken up with him. Pete grinned, puffing up his chest and effectively forgetting the problem at hand. God, he was good.

 

–

 

Since Pete had mentioned alcohol, Derrick was thinking that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. He had a secret stash hidden in the room, too. It wasn't very difficult to hide things in Fort McGee; Randy only ever saw what he was looking for, and no one ever really bothered inspecting them. He'd 'hidden' his hot plate for over 2 years just by leaving it on the drawer.

 

He eyed the place where he'd hidden the stash. On the one hand, getting wasted sounded pretty good right now. One the other, it involved moving and getting out of the blankets. He decided to think of it this way- he should think of what he would usually do, and then do the exact opposite of that. But then that was too complicated, and his mind was too heavy to think of anything other than Erin and how badly and often he fucked up.

 

Derrick had moved approximately half a foot closer to the stash, inching along the floor, before he completely ran out of energy and gave up. Pete was probably right; he should get up and get over it.  But, despite having done nothing but lay around for the last 24 hours, he was too exhausted, and getting over it would open the door right up to doing it again. Anyway, the whole thing was his fault, and he wouldn't even have thought to actually deal with it if not for Pete, and he had nothing of value to contribute to the platoon but pointless negativity and sarcasm, so maybe it really was just better if he stayed under the bed and let himself rot.

 

The audio book had finished several hours ago, but Derrick didn't have the energy to change it, so he just lay there in silence, using the blankets to block out the light. He did crack a smile at the thought of Pete having to share the trailer with Randy, but that only lasted so long. You know who had a pretty smile? Erin did. Her smile was beautiful.

 

Derrick had made her smile sometimes. That always surprised him, because everyone else realized he was just a dick minutes into their first conversation, and she didn't seem to catch on for the several months that they went out. She actually liked him, as in liked him as a person, which was just another thing that made her special. He'd already gotten her to like him, and Sam to tolerate him, and he honestly didn't think he had it in him to be able to do that again with someone else.

 

Maybe she'd come back? But that was stupid, because Brandon wouldn't be stationed at the same base a second time, and even if he was, Erin and Derrick had broken up, and she'd probably moved on already- she probably got back together with Brandon, even. Derrick had _known_ that she wouldn't be able to resist his manly charm or the way that he constantly and needlessly removed his shirt. Okay, he didn't _know_ , per say, but he had a really strong feeling about it.

 

He made one last effort to reach his stash, still too far away by several feet. _Great, you can't even reach your_ own _alcohol._

_–_

 

A few hours later, Randy stopped in, having been kicked out last time. “Derrick? Derrick! I got you food, which actually I think I maybe wasn't supposed to take out of the cafeteria but I don't think you've eaten yet, so I brought you some anyway. I mean, I kind of ate some of it, too, but I left most of it, and I have some candy too, because candy's good for feeling better. And I know you didn't want the cake yesterday but I did make it and nobody's allowed to have it without you because it's yours and I don't want it to go to waste so we can eat it now if you want.” Randy always tried too hard, but it was kind of nice sometimes, so Derrick decided to wait a bit before telling him to get out.

 

Randy sat down next to the bed, setting the food and some plates on the food. “Oh! And one last thing.” He stood and, much to Derrick's surprise, went straight to the alcohol. “I know you don't like me drinking your stuff but I figured maybe this time we could share it.” He settled back down next to Derrick, who didn't say anything but kind of started to wonder why he'd ever thought it would be a good idea to hide alcohol in their shared closet.

 

“Wanna talk about Erin? She was really nice. I liked her.” Randy's only response was a muffled ' _no_ ' and the sound of Derrick and his blankets moving away by about 2 inches. “Alright, that's cool. But are you going to want the food?”

 

Derrick thought about it. He hadn't eaten in 2 days, but he wasn't very hungry yet anyway. Still, eating was a good thing, and Randy had gone to all the trouble, so he figured he could at least take some of it. He reached out, grabbed a bag of chips, and pulled it back down under the bed with him. Randy grinned at the sight, taking it as a sign of progress. The sounds of the bag wrinkling and slow crunching weren't discouraging either, even if they didn't last a particularly long time.

 

Randy may have seemed stupid on the outside, but he knew his brother, and they'd been through this a few times before, so he had some idea of how to be helpful here. The key was to take it slow, not to push it, and not try to force Derrick to make actual human conversation. Sometimes he was open to the idea- okay, he was open once, but mostly it was better the avoid mentioning whatever was bothering him. He sat silently for a few minutes, letting Derrick get used to his presence there.

 

When things felt more comfortable, Randy started telling Derrick about everything he'd missed in the past two days. He went off on a lot of tangents, but that was something he always did, so he figured Derrick wouldn't really mind. Anyway, he always found his way back to the original topic. At first, he heard Derrick say something muffled, that sounded vaguely like he was telling him to go away. Randy ignored him. After a bit of time, Derrick quieted back down and just let Randy talk. Randy was pretty sure he even heard a snicker or two when he mentioned the way Gumble had somehow managed to turn a tank to scrap, and how he himself had lost the Command Sergeant Major's foot the day of the ball.

 

“Can I have some chips?” He only got a grunt in response, so he reached under the bed, feeling around for the chips. Even when his fingers brushed past the bag, he pretended he didn't notice until Derrick pushed the bag towards him. Derrick considered himself a master manipulator, and generally he was pretty good, but he never seemed to notice when Randy did it right back. “Thanks, bro.”

 

He talked a bit longer, and then decided it was time to pull out his secret weapon. “Oh! I almost forgot. I've got- hold on, let me get it- soup!” From underneath the bed, there came a sharp inhale, and then a muffled reply. “No, it doesn't matter if it got cold. It's gazpacho... your favorite. I don't know if you'll be able to eat it from underneath the bed, though...”

 

For a few seconds, everything under the bed was still. Then Derrick slowly crawled out from beneath his bunk, still wrapped in his blankets like a burrito. Randy moved to the side to give him space, grinning at him. Derrick settled against the wall, avoiding eye contact. He took the soup, and his whole body seemed to relax more when he took his first sip. Soup had always been Derrick's weakness.

 

They sat together, eating in comfortable silence. When Derrick finished the gazpacho, Randy saw him eying the bed again, so he offered him some of the cake instead. The message on the top had been messily crossed out with whipped cream. “Hey, Derrick, do you want my cake yet? It's banana, and I made it especially for you.”

 

Derrick hesitated. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, before taking the plate and saying, “Sure.” Randy grinned at him again, and Derrick made the same embarrassed face he did anytime things got mushy. “Shut up, Randy.” He ate some of the cake, raising his eyebrows. “That's actually pretty good.”

 

“Well, thank you. I found some white stuff in the kitchen and figured it was probably sugar, so I used a lot of that.” Derrick made a choking sound and spit out part of the cake. “Joke, Derrick. Dobkiss took all of it first.”

 

–

 

Pete decided to check up on Derrick again, figuring it had been a few hours since the last time, and maybe he'd at least be sleeping this time.

 

He opened the door slowly, and the first thing he saw was his youngest brother leaning against the bed, eating cake. “Randy, what-” Then he saw Derrick, sitting against the wall, his face standing out against the white blankets that covered every other part of him. “Oh. Wait, how- Randy, did you- what?”

 

Derrick pulled the blankets tighter around himself, going back to the cake. Randy smiled at Pete and motioned for him to sit down with them. He patted the floor next to him. Pete, still confused, did what Randy wanted him to. Just a few hours ago, Derrick had refused to do anything, and now he was eating cake with Randy.

 

After what Pete considered an uncomfortable moment of silence, Randy started going on about something that had nothing to do with the topic at hand. Pete decided to follow his lead, ignoring it when half of what Randy said made no sense when applied to a real-world situation. A few minutes into the conversation, Derrick began to chime in with his signature sarcastic remarks, slowly moving from murmuring under his breath, smiling despite himself, to his usual style.

 

“Oh, good, you're still a dick.” Pete grinned.

 

“Born and raised.” Derrick replied.

 

–

 

A while later, Derrick excused himself- well, not in so many words- to use the restroom. As the door shut behind him, Pete looked at Randy. “Dude, _how?_ ”

 

“Well, see, what she did was-”

 

“No, not Park, _you_. With Derrick. Three hours ago he wouldn't even come out from under the blankets, and now he's cracking jokes and eating cake. What did you do?”

 

Randy smiled proudly. “I cheered him up.”

 

“Yeah, but how?”

 

“Oh. Well, see, sometimes Derrick just gets kind of down- like he stays in bed, or he doesn't eat, or he just avoids everyone-”

 

Pete rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Randy, I know that part. That's not what I'm asking.”

 

“Anyway, so I've kind of learned how to cheer him up on the worst parts. Like, you've got to be slow. Get him used to interacting with people again in a way that isn't getting them to leave. But don't be really sympathetic or too nice, because then he'll get all closed off. Just like, talk _at_ him. Gives him something to do without having to do work, plus again, he warms up to people. Then, if the time is right, the most important part.” Randy was grinning ear to ear. “The soup. Always bring gazpacho, because it's supposed to be cold anyway and it's his favorite. You can't have soup lying down, so he has to sit up. Talk at him some how, and then he'll start joining in, like he just did. Eventually, he has to go, like now, and then when he comes back he's usually kind of done. Then you leave, and if you come back later, or he comes out, pretend not to notice if his eyes are kind of red or something. I mean, usually they aren't, but you never know. Everyone else knows to ignore it too, because last time someone pointed it out they ended up in the hospital, even if no one can concretely prove that Derrick did it. The rest of it you kind of just have to ride out, because- and that's how she managed to fit 12 dogs inside of one purse.”

 

Derrick came back into the room, melodramatically collapsing on the bed. “As much as I _love_ hanging out with you guys- and trust me, I love it-” He said flatly, “I'm beat, so unless you guys feel like sleeping, feel free to get out. Or you could read, but Pete, you're not the reading type, and I'm not even 100% sure Randy _can_ read, so, you know. Your choice.”

 

“Alright. Bye, Derrick!” Randy was already halfway out the door, waving.

 

Pete followed his lead. “Later, brother.”

 

“Later.”

 

–

 

Pete and Randy put their time to good use. They played several games of ping-pong and nearly killed Gumble on accident. They went with the rest of the platoon to the bar, where Randy was banned from playing darts after hitting 3 people in the eyes. Dobkiss told him he had incredible aim. After a very complicated, very long, and very gratifying drinking game, everyone but Jill was completely wasted. Jill was drunk too, but only mildly so.

 

They eventually found their way back to the base, Pete along with everyone else, because he was too drunk to remember where his trailer was. He and Randy stumbled into Randy and Derrick's room at about midnight. Derrick looked up from the book he was reading. “Oh, God. You're so drunk.”

 

Pete and Randy burst out laughing, both nodding enthusiastically. Pete managed to fit a, “Can I crash here?” in between his giggles, and Randy followed with, “And me?”

 

“Of course! Nothing better than sleeping in the same room as two guys who are completely wasted, right?” There was a beat. “I'm kidding. Pete, absolutely not. Randy, this is already your room.”

 

“Thank you.” Randy passed out right there on the floor.

 

Derrick sighed. “Fine. Pete, if you close the door, roll Randy onto his side, and promise to fall asleep as quickly as he did, you can stay.”

 

Pete swayed silently for a second, as if considering the offer. “Deal,” he said, before joining Randy on the floor without meeting the first two conditions.

 

“Oh my God, I hate the both of you.” Derrick stood, closing the door himself. He used his foot to push his brothers so they were more or less on their sides. He glanced at his brothers one more time before turning off the lights and getting back into bed. “'Night, brothers.”


End file.
